


Freckles

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Jay and Babs are there in memory and mentioning, M/M, Trip Down Memory Lane, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4546656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick finds an old photo album in the attic, and with it a barrage of memories he had forced into silence- and an ache that had never truly gone away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt, "Imagine your OTP+ finding a long lost picture taken of them years ago."

Dick lifted one of the large boxes in his arms, moving carefully around the old study, heading towards the attic with it. Bruce wanted to clean out one of the unused studies, to gift to Damian as a studio for his art- in the hopes of luring out of his room, from time to time. Dick didn’t think it was a bad idea. Not that he thought Damian spending so much time alone in his room was strange. He was a teenager- they did that. He remembered.

The climb to the attic was, annoying, if Dick was honest. The boxes were an awkward size in his arms, making it hard to see. Still, once inside, he dropped it down in a clear space- he was sure Alfred would have a moment, when he saw that Dick wasn’t leaving them in any sort of order. But he could fix it later- he only had a few more to go- and then another book shelf to pack...

Maybe he’d move them around a bit, to take a break.

He pushed one, with his foot, before giving it a playful kick, letting it slid across the attic. Dick figured they were mostly books at this point- no harm could be done. It bumped into another box, jostling it so some of its contents fell onto the old floor. Dick frowned, crossing the room quickly and bending over, picking up the large book that had fallen out.

It was covered in dust, and he blew on it. Leather bound, no title, but when he opened it- pictures. Old ones.

The first was a grinning shot of Barbara, in her Batgirl glory, hands on her hips. Dick felt his lips tugging into a smile. God, she looked amazing. _Happy_. Below it, in Alfred’s handwriting, was simply the year. No names. Typical.

He flipped to the next page, found a picture of himself, as Robin, sitting on the hood of the Batmobile with the most devious grin he had seen in a long time. He snorted a laugh, thinking he’d have to bring this downstairs, ask Alfred about them. Why was it stashed up here? He knew Alfred had pictures of all of them, in costume, that he kept secure. But shoved in the attic?

He flipped the page again, one of Bruce with both of them. Barbara and Dick was smiling, under his arms, and Bruce had an almost smile. Dick felt his belly almost going tight. Those were...good times. Different times. Gotham had been dark, but not the disaster it was now. It was a different life.

Without much thought, he settled down on the floor, crossing his legs and cradling the large book in it. He flipped through a few more pages, images of the three of them, and separately- and one Dick felt he remembered taking of Alfred sitting, confused at the main cave computer. He snorted again, was glade he was getting it out of his system _now_ , before anyone else could see-

He flipped to the next page, then paused, fingers still gripping the thick, slightly yellowed page. The smile that looked up at him was familiar and a ghost, happy and radiant and devilish. The costume, almost identical to his own.

But those were not his eyes, that dark hair had a wave to it not his own. Those freckles didn’t belong to him.

_Jason_.

Dick let the page settle. Jason looked so small, it must have been shortly after Bruce had given him the mantel, taken him in. He was smiling from ear to ear in a way that made Dick’s chest suddenly ache. He flipped the page, unable to handle it- and found one of Babs with arm around Jason’s shoulders, giving him a friendly squeeze while he blushed furiously, looking down at his boots. Another flip, and there was Jason mid stretch before patrol, waving at the camera- that same, happy grin.

Dick flipped another, pausing, his heart nearly stilling in his chest. Jason, with that smile- somehow brighter, that flush on his freckles cheeks- with Dick’s arm around him, Dick leaning in over his shoulder, smiling as well, the tell-tale collar of his first Nightwing suit visible.

He wanted to remember Alfred taking this. Perhaps he did, somewhere, in the backs of his memories. A warm night, a patrol without Bruce- just he and the kid wonder and those darling freckles and bright eyes. Just Jason and all his glory and energy. Just Jason, as the perfect imperfection.

Dick closed his eyes, inhaled slowly. His throat ached, felt constricted, and he didn’t want to see anymore. Didn’t want to remember. He spent so long _forgetting_ Jason, forgetting these moments, everything prior to his death. His resurrection. The beast he had become.

He had spent a life time forgetting what was only the blink of an eye.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, flipping to the next page. No Jason, Barbara in the driver’s seat of the Batmobile, the next a picture of Dick checking out his costume in the mirror- the next-

There he was again, a close up, grinning up at the camera. Tufts of dark waves, and Dick swore he could count the freckles on his cheeks. He let his fingers run over the picture, protected beneath a thin sheet of plastic over the page. Dared to let them ghost over the boy’s cheeks, beneath his mask, along the small specks on his cheek bones, over the tip of his nose. Dick wanted to count them- he had, when Jason had been alive. When he’s been _little wing_.

He remembered running his thumb along Jason’s cheeks and watching the boy blush, daring to drag it again over the freckles, counting softly to himself as they reappeared.

Dick closed his eyes again, and it was as if the attic was gone, the book. Everything. As if he was sitting outside, up on the rooftops of Gotham so long ago, staring out at the city.

No, not the city. The boy who had settled in his lap. Who, by all rights, he should have moved. But he had only wrapped a single arm around Jason, held him in place as Dick’s legs dangled over the roof of the building. The cold had brought out the color in Jason’s cheeks, and Dick had reached out, gently dragged a finger along his cheek bones.

“I can still see them.” He’d smiled when he’d said it, and Jason’s cheeks had gone pinker. Behind the old mask, his eyes were clear as day, crystal-bright and blue and framed in thick, dark lashes. Lashes that matched the wild waves of his dark hair.

“Dick, _stop_.” Up there, alone, with the city sleeping below, it had felt alright, to forget who they were supposed to be. Dick didn’t correct him, didn’t chide him, only tapped the tip of his nose playfully.

“Even the few right here,” he’d continued, and Jason had pouted, turning away.

“C’mon-“

“And I love each and every one.” Jason said nothing, glance down now, before his hands slowly came up, settled over Dick’s shoulders, gloved fingers sliding along his shoulder blades.

“...Really?” It had been almost timid. Dick smiled softly, nodding, seeing his breath as Jason exhaled, turning back to face him. His fingers laced together behind Dick’s neck.

“Of course.” He leaned in, playfully kissing the tip of Jason’s nose. “Just like I love you, little wing.” Jason had gasped, flushed so dark the color even reached his ears, and Dick couldn’t help but chuckle, grin fondly at the boy who seemed to melt under his slightest attention.

“You mean it?” Dick nodded.

“Always do, Jay.” His free hand tussled the boy’s hair, before curving down to cup his cheek, his thumb running along his cheek bone. Over those freckles. “And I always will.”

“That’s a pretty big promise.” Jason shifted a little closer, staring up at him. Dick could’ve lost his breath to those eyes. “How do I know you won’t break it?”

Dick chuckled. “Hmmm. Seal it somehow?” Jason’s lips quirked into a half smile. Devilish yet with this strange twinge of innocent, of a boy who had seen so much and yet still had years before he should see the worst. _Should_.

“Okay. How?”

“Handshake?” Jason twisted his face up, shaking his head. “No? Pinky swear?” Another shake of his head. “Then what are you thinking?”

“A kiss.”

Dick’s lips cracked into a grin.

“Little Wing,” he whispered, gripping his chin and leaning in, “you read my mind.”

Dick tilted his head, slightly, leaning in and pressing his mouth of Jason’s. The boy’s lips were cold, from the air- but so were Dick’s. They fit so perfectly beneath his own, moved like they knew how Dick wanted to kiss him- how _Dick_ wanted to be kissed. His arms around his neck tightened, and Jason pulled himself in closer, fitting as close to Dick’s chest as he could get, a pleased little sound escaping the back of his throat as Dick tilted his head back, deepened the kiss.

When he pulled away, he saw the puff of Jason’s breath, the color that had risen to his lips. His eyes were half lidded, but still looking at him, focused on Dick like there was nothing else in the city at all. He smiled softly at the younger boy, thumb stroking over his cheek bone again.

“It’s sealed,” he whispered, as Jason’s lips curved into a smile. “I’ll always have to love you now, little wing.”

The smile turned to a grin, and Jason laughed- a breathy and loud sound, sweet and uplighting. Like Dick was really a bird. Like he could suddenly fly, ride this sound up into the sky itself. He laughed and threw himself fully against Dick’s chest, pushing him down, so he fell on his back, legs still dangling over the edge of the building. Jason followed, dropping down over him and kissing him again, movements rushed, excited. _Happy_.

Dick wrapped his arms around his boy, holding him close as he kissed him back, as he let Jason move from those rushed excited kisses to the kind that were slow, lazy. The kind that left Dick feeling like there was a small phoenix in his belly, fluttering his fiery wings.

Dick was jarred from his thoughts when he heard, at the base of the pull down stairs to the attic, Alfred calling his name. He blinked the memories back once, before calling out in a voice that was hoarse suddenly, “Be down in a second Alfred!”

He inhaled, glancing down at the picture again. At Jason’s smiling face, the face he had kissed one night on a rooftop. Another in the cave. Endless nights in the Manor.

That he had never kissed enough.

Carefully, Dick separated the paper and plastic at the top, pulling the picture from behind the film. He held it up, in the warm afternoon light, filtering in through the dusty air and one round, glass window. He held it up and he stared at the face, that fit so perfectly into his memory, one that had been buried for so long.

Dick felt the tears on his cheeks before he knew what they were. Hiccuped a breathy sob before he knew he could barely breath. His fingers trembled, once, before the picture fluttered down from his hand, to land on the empty page, and he was covering his face, his eyes, pressing into them until he saw nothing but black.

But he heard Jason’s happy, breathy laugh. And then he saw his bright eyes, his pretty smile- those endless freckles. He saw his face as he was, as the boy Dick had fallen in love with.

As the boy who had died, without even so much as a goodbye.

Dick sobbed, silently, pulling his hands away, flipping back to the image of he and Jason. He pulled it from the book as well, picking up the one he had dropped of Jason’s smiling face, and tucked them both into the pocket of his shirt. He wanted to take the whole book, to see what other precious glimpses of the boy he had loved it had to offer- but he wasn’t sure he could handle any more. 

For so long, he had almost convinced himself that Jason had always been as he currently was. That there had never been a Robin with freckles and messy hair and a smile that was somehow an angel and a devil both at once. That had plans, yet plans he didn’t fully understand. A childish ignorance. He had managed to almost believe for so long that this boy didn’t exist- and now, now there were years upon years of memories he had wanted to forget.

Simply to stop hurting. To stop _missing_.

He closed the book, setting it back into the box it had fallen from. Maybe in a week, a month, a year, he’d come back up. He’d look through the rest. He’d call Barbara and he’s show her and they could laugh together, over the memories of them, of their own separate existences in the book- of their time with Jason.

But for now, he could barely handle the two burning images pressed against his chest. He dusted himself off, took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a single moment.

He tried to reconcile the sweet smile he remembered to the devil grin he knew Jason boasted now. He tried to merge the boy and the man, and all he got was black. Nothing.

The boy he had loved was dead and gone.

The man who made him ache, made him miss something he had forced himself to forget all details of, to only acknowledge its existence but never to name it, to let the memories flood back into his mind. The man he wanted to touch, to wrap his arms around and sob because he was _alive_ and he shouldn’t be.

Except he wasn’t. Jason Todd, as Dick had fallen for him, wasn’t alive. He was dead, buried in the cold ground, in Dick’s memories-

In faded photographs. Nothing more than a dead boy with a startling smile and freckles like the stars.


End file.
